In some ways, the word “museum” feels right. There are exhibits. There are
labels. There are elderly couples in fawn trousers. And there is the sine
qua non of the genre: a group of middle-aged ladies looking cross with
an audioguide. “How do you get it to work?”

But there is also quite a lot of tasseling. Not to mention sequins. And on a
room-high screen, footage of Björn Ulvaeus wearing a blue satin jumpsuit so
tight it strains at not only its own edges but also at the edges of decency.
You wouldn’t get that at the British Museum.